


Ficlet: Long December

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Category: LOTRPS
Genre: April Showers Challenge 2011, Song Lyric Title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-13
Updated: 2003-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:44:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Maybe this year will be better than the last.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Ficlet: Long December

_I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower  
makes you talk a little lower  
about the things you could not show her._   
-Counting Crows, Long December

  
Viggo is on his knees. There's nothing new about this. He's been on his knees often enough for one reason or another. Sometimes it was to find the cockring that rolled under the couch, or to pick up an apple that fell under the refrigerator. Sometimes it was even to service Sean, but that's over now.

Viggo isn't exactly sure _why_ he's on his knees. Just that somehow he got there after the phone call, after screaming into his silent house, after almost having a neighbor call the cops because of the shocking surprise of noise from Crazy Mortensen's house. So fucking crazy. Crazy to love Sean. Crazy to think Sean loved him. Just plain out of it.

He really should have known better, he rebukes himself firmly. He really should have. Sean's second marriage was a fluke. He should have known better than to think what they had would last. What's fifteen years compared to an on-set fling? Sure, it had carried over, but not that much. Sean had used the excuse of fear of flying, so it had been Viggo who made the trek each time, sleeping off redeyes in cheap motels so he could be ready for Sean who would run him ragged and then send him home. Like a touch on an addiction and Viggo couldn't stop.

He isn't sure why he's on his knees. Sean isn't coming back. He broke everything, whatever it was, off. The light blinking on Viggo's machine tells him that. He heard the call come in, but there was groceries and art supplies and, well, Sean could wait, couldn't he?

He couldn't. The tinny voice from the old machine had testified to that and Viggo had dropped the eggs and potatoes and raced over, but the message was over and Sean had hung up.

His world was over.

Oh, but that was melodramatic. The world would go on. His relationship with Sean, on the other hand, would not. Never again would he kneel for Sean to take him into his mouth, to suck as hard and as well as he could. Never again would Sean smile down at him, calling him good, telling him faster, telling him to swallow it down, every last drop.

Because it was all over.

So Viggo isn't sure why he's on his knees. Only that he is, and he can't get up, and the milk is making a slowly expanding puddle on the floor. It'll mix soon with the flour, he thinks, and maybe it'll explode when the vinegar finally falls from the fort the cereal made of itself. Or maybe that's baking soda, which is in the medicine cabinet where Sean would keep his aspirin on the rare visits and he would smile, and never take it with him.

Or maybe the eggs will fall from the steps and land on his shoe and splatter, making a new life for itself from amid the confusion of a sudden drop, and the floor.

Viggo laughs, from the floor, from whatever world is left to him now that Sean's gone, and amid his laughter, he cries.

 _If you think you might come to California,  
I think you should._  
   
 


End file.
